


Those eyes you have, my dear.

by be_wulf



Category: Fables - Willingham, The Wolf Among Us
Genre: Bigby being an awkward pup tbh, F/M, Snow's overwhelmed as heck and Bigby wants to make it better, kind of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:06:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_wulf/pseuds/be_wulf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow crumbles, and Bigby does what he can to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those eyes you have, my dear.

As time went on, Bigby began to notice Snow's coping mechanisms growing less sufficient. She was like him, in a sense; they both threw each other fiercely into their work when they felt too stressed about their own thoughts. She cascaded into foot-high piles of paperwork and furiously scraped at the crevices of her brain for solutions, and Bigby kept everyone in line. It was almost seamless. The only difference being that his work more often than not ended in bloodshed, whereas Snow's ended as happily as a fairy tale could in this fucked up town. 

As much as he tried not to admit it to anyone else, he did watch out for her. Or... Just plain watch her. He used to fight the gazes he'd send her way, more or less because the other patrons of Fabletown had begun to notice, but he found it a wasted effort to give now. It wasn't as if he was a fuzzy-eyed lover, watching her curling dark blue locks over her cheeks; no. Bigby watched her stance, her expression, he watched for signs that something could be amiss at all times. When his half of the work brought him prowling into the office hallways, he'd note the look of relief that crossed her features. When it came to all social interactions, he had learned that he was most certainly a square peg in a round hole-- but oddly enough, his presence seemed to bring a relief, a calmness, to her. He'd be lying if he said he didn't make a habit of stopping in more often. 

Which is how he found her tonight. Turning down the hall, his sharp golden eyes found the usual long line of Fables milling about outside of the mayor's office door. Various scents of impatience, hopelessness-- even a touch of fury-- wafted to him as he passed down the center of the hall. He ignored the dirty looks magnetized to him and, instead, reached for the door knob- but something stopped him. Keen senses were definitely a perk of having in all his forms, because if he had the senses of a Mundy, he would have missed the sporadic inhales and exhales coupled with the scent of panic seeping from the room. His chest grew tight. It was Snow. 

"Alright, everybody out," He called gruffly as he turned to face down the hallway, his jaw clenched as he awaited the backlash that rose up from those waiting in line. "Come back tomorrow."

**

God, how did this always end up happening? Her elbows rested on the worn desk in front of her, face in her hands as she sucked in air frantically. The tremors that cascaded through her nerves were near uncontrollable, and honestly, she wasn't even trying to calm down anymore. Furiously, she brushed the tears from her eyes with the heel of her palm and let her arm drop down onto the desk, one hand working through her hair. The paper in which she'd been writing on was a haze through the tears welling up still, she couldn't make heads or tails of what she'd written. With great effort, she managed to suppress sobs, but it only locked her muscles with tension and caused her to lean forward once more over the heaps of paperwork. 

Distantly, she remembered the line of Fables awaiting assistance outside the door-- which, of course, did wonders to increase the weight on her shoulders. As much as she tried to focus, thoughts- bad ones- kept clawing their way to the forefront of her mind. The way Crane thought about her... She'd always known he was a disturbing man, hence she'd always tried to steer clear of him, but this? It made her want to crawl from her own skin. The thoughts jarred her, and the mental images even more so, but it was all interrupted by a familiar voice. "Come back tomorrow." 

Snow glanced up, straightening her posture as she quickly wiped tears from her eyes. The complaints of various Fables rose, muted through the door, but Bigby combated them easily enough... When the door finally opened, she felt it. His gaze. 

Bigby Wolf had always looked at her differently. She tried to tell herself that it was because he was a wolf; he was tied closer to his instincts than others, and to be honest, his instincts were incredibly reliable. Snow had watched him as he watched others and seen them quake under the piercing gaze he harnessed, but she had never felt such pressure. Well, at first, she had been taken aback by his long stares and seemingly all-knowing golden irises-- as it wasn't every day that one could be fixed with such an intense look. But she found as time went on that, when interrogating or speaking with others, Bigby Wolf proceeded in the harshest of ways; he more often than not aimed to intimidate those he spoke with. But he didn't intimidate her. Instead, he seemed to read her... She wasn't sure she always appreciated such looks; but now? Now was one of the times when she truly did. 

To appear to have her thoughts together, Snow quickly picked up her pen and examined the paper on which she had been writing once more. "Sheriff," She greeted; damning the slight tremble to her tone, and the unevenness of her breaths. 

"Snow," Bigby said in that deep, gravelly tone of his. The rumble which she imagined came from his core, as if his vocal cords were two rocks grinding together. 

Snow knew he was trailing closer, stalking up to her with the lack of his usual confidence and bluntness. It puzzled her, so teary-eyed, she glanced up at him. Bigby paused in his step, opening his mouth before promptly closing it again and standing perfectly still, watching her. "... Is there something I can do for you?" She asked in a tone that she wished was sharper than the fair murmur that left her. 

Bigby took a breath and shook his head. "No, no..." He began his approach again. Snow cleared her throat. 

"W-Well, I'm quite busy, as... as you can see," She said; gesturing to her own desk littered with papers. Snow could still feel it, even when she gestured around her, Bigby's glance was locked onto her as if she was prey. But not prey he intended to tear into, no... Prey he didn't know what to do with. To be honest, she couldn't expect anything of him. She didn't know what to do with herself right now either. Snow could feel her tough front, if one could even call it that, crumbling quickly. "Look, Bigby, if you've no reason to be here, I'd just go--" She stuttered out, wishing like hell that the tear now travelling down her cheek was nonexistent. 

"I have a reason to be here," Bigby said abruptly. He had stopped moving, standing in front of the desk, and when she looked up at him through a haze of tears, she saw him staring. Staring her right in the eyes in that odd little way of his. Snow let out a shaky breath and leaned back in her chair, finally allowing herself to discintigrate. 

Although Bigby didn't invite her to speak verbally, the way he waited was invitation enough. "I just-- I don't know what I should be doing," Snow whispered in a high and breathy tone; the kind of tone used when one couldn't rely on anything further. She brushed the wetness from her cheeks with trembling fingers. "I'm just doing what I've always done and clearly, CLEARLY, I have to find out what else to do because i-if I was doing everything right before we wouldn't be in this situation, would we?" She mused. Downcast, she stared at the desk unseeingly. 

Bigby sighed sadly- which was odd, since she wasn't sure she'd ever heard the man sound sad before. "Snow..." He rumbled, slowly stepping his way around her desk to approach her. Snow's gaze flickered to Crane's desk in an odd instinct, goosebumps pimpling her skin. She knew Bigby wasn't like that... "This.. None of this is on you," Snow looked up at him now that her vision was clear, and saw him in a new stance. Gentle was the only way to describe it. Shoulders bowed slightly, the tension having left them as he approached, with his well-muscled arms hanging low and relaxed at his sides. "You did all you knew to do. That's what you're doing now... That isn't... Bad. We just have to figure out the next step, together." He muttered low to her. 

She could tell he was speaking like this to comfort her- or to conceal the obvious truth... That none of them knew what to do, and that both action and lack of it may doom them.

**

Social interactions most certainly weren't his strong point. All Bigby knew, however, was that he hated seeing Snow so torn up. Especially about things that she, nor any of them, knew how to change... The way her eyes welled plucked at his heart strings. Everything about it was wrong, and what his eyes couldn't tell him, his other senses could. The feeling of despair was so strong off of her that he swore he could feel it like a hot blast of summer air, not to mention the other muddled emotions. It had taken him a moment to pick them all apart and line them up in his mind, though once he had, it hit him. Shame was there presently... And something else... 

Ah. There it was. Her eyes flicked to Crane's desk, and it did not escape him. A slow breath left his chest as a need, a craving, a something-he-wasn't-used-to swelled in the empty space. He needed to comfort her somehow, but words failed him as they consistently did. He could tell from her expression that what he was saying was no help at all, so as he finally rounded the desk in slow deliberate movements, he stopped in front of her. This side of her reminded him of a doe; flighty, graceful, dare he say beautiful... It took him a moment to realize he was reaching to cup her cheek, and that pheromones of alarm and nervousness had shot through the air like tendrils of lightning. 

Bigby stopped immediately, froze, and stared at her. His fingers were mere inches from her porcelain-like cheek, rough and calloused in comparison to her unearthiness. "Bigby..." She murmured, confusion and gratefulness lacing her tone. This confused him. All of this confused him. It was an intricate dance, truly, of waiting for cues and proceeding as such... He wasn't used to trying this hard for someone before.

It took him by surprise, however, as Snow tilted her head and touched her cheek to his fingers; her eyes locked uncertainly with his until they touched. As if he had pressed an off button, they fluttered closed as she leaned into his touch further. Clenching his jaw, Bigby let his thumb trail over the damp and sticky sections of her cheek where her tears had fallen. "Snow," He muttered, drawing a little closer as he sank downwards to be on her level. He sank to one knee in a pose that reminded him of a submissive wolf. Oh, how the tables turn... 

Snow gazed at him, spinning her chair to face him and-- oh. Her hands, skin like silk, took his left-- the one not cupping her cheek. They sat like that for a long time. Her fingers glided over his rough skin, his touch over her cheek, held stiff and still as he listened to her quick heartbeat over the silence. It was calm in the same way that it was not. Her touch was a relief but he was nervous, restless, unsure... 

And then, unexpectedly, she moved. What was even more surprising? He moved with her as if it was written into his instincts. She let go of his hand, arms outstretched as he moved to stand. Bigby let his arms drop down to unsurely, and as gently as he could, wrap around her waist. It was only when he felt the urgent grip of her embrace that he returned it firmly; lifting her slightly as she tilted her forehead down to rest against the crook of his neck, nose brushing his collarbone. It was foreign but sickly sweet; enough to make a breath whistle from his lungs at the closeness of it. Somehow, somewhere, a little voice in his head told him to do something. So he did. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and relished when he felt her hold him just a little bit tighter...


End file.
